


Try

by a_sin_and_a_lie



Category: Angel: The Series (Comics), Angel: the Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Background Buffy/Angel, Background Winifred "Fred" Burkle/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Friends With Benefits, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sin_and_a_lie/pseuds/a_sin_and_a_lie
Summary: Seeing two women – well, a woman and an ancient demonic god-king – at once was a bit of a trip. It was certainly something Angel would never have thought he'd try – at least, not with his soul intact. But somehow it was working out.





	Try

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tagging this dubious consent since the nature of the Fred/Illyria bodysharing is squicky for many. This interpretation is based on the Angel: Season 11 comics, in which the two are able to communicate and neither can force something if the other is against it. So the intent is to present a fully consensual relationship between three adult beings in two bodies in a purely fantasy setting.

Seeing two women – well, a woman and an ancient demonic god-king – at once was a bit of a trip. It was certainly something Angel would never have thought he'd try – at least, not with his soul intact. But somehow it was working out.

He spent most of his time with Fred, and they had developed a sweet friends-with-benefits sort of relationship, tracking demons and doing research and watching classic movies on her couch. Illyria mostly came out to play when the action heated up – whether it was fighting or fucking.

Illyria had little patience, even for pleasure. Angel could spend hours using his hands and mouth on Fred's milky white skin and secret pink folds, bringing her to the edge and back and then over and over, but Illyria was never satisfied until he was slamming into her with as much force as he could manage.

She was more curious about human sexuality than anything. She wanted to know what it felt like to touch and taste but moved on quickly. She asked questions and demanded things of him that kept him on his toes. Once, she commanded him to sink his fangs into her neck, and she transformed back into Fred so violently that he was nearly knocked out of bed.

Fred had kissed him and smoothed her hand through his hair and told him he was never, under any circumstances, to bite their shared body with anything but his human teeth. Angel was relieved.

But Fred could be curious, too. She was a generous lover with a talented little mouth and long, exquisite fingers that felt amazing over his skin. Their different body temperatures intrigued her, along with his lack of a need to breathe. Sometimes when she slept over, he felt a bit like a lab rat under her observant gaze from the next pillow, but then he'd feel those warm fingers slide around his cock and he'd happily subject himself to her exploration.

It was Illyria who first hinted that Fred wanted to broaden her horizons in the bedroom but hadn't quite been able to bring it up. He confirmed what Fred was after in a rather elliptical conversation, then spent a lengthy amount of time slowly working her up to it. But he still wasn't surprised that when he finally went to spread the slippery lube, it was Illyria who was there to join him. She wanted to feel it, too, and he tested her with a finger, opening her up to him.

But Illyria could be surprisingly generous. Once she was completely warmed up and he had inched his cock into the sweet pucker of her ass, he felt the transformation, and it was Fred he began to fuck, slow and steady. She was panting with pleasure and she gasped as he slid his fingers between her wet thighs and found her clit. For the first time, she screamed when she came. 

If Illyria helped Fred translate her desires, Fred did the same for Illyria's emotions. The Old One had made peace with Fred and was pleased by Angel's continued attentions. She didn’t mind sharing his affections with Fred – nothing so mundane as monogamy would trouble her. She still wasn't human, but she felt almost content.

Fred seemed content, too, but she wasn't truly happy. She had a core of sadness in her that called out to Angel's own. Now that he'd let himself feel it, he found his attraction to her intense – those little skirts she favored drove him out of his mind – but it was sex and companionship and comfort. They weren't in love.

Once in a while, she talked to him about Wesley. Never in bed, of course, but on the rare day off, or when they curled up together in front of the flickering light of His Girl Friday or Casablanca. She dreamed of Wes sometimes, and Illyria did, too, which made it worse. Fred told Angel she had woken up sobbing over memories that weren't even her own.

Angel never talked about his own lost love. He hardly even let himself think about her. Buffy felt so far away from him now, farther than she ever had. He hardly even knew her anymore. 

He didn't have to worry about his soul with Fred and Illyria. Right about now, perfect happiness would be sleeping in San Francisco, tucked snugly against a different vampire with a soul.

It felt right somehow. What he had now was already more than he deserved. Happiness was never meant to be his.


End file.
